


My Mate

by Witchergirl98



Category: The Witcher
Genre: Creature Jaskier | Dandelion, Humor, M/M, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:20:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24708988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witchergirl98/pseuds/Witchergirl98
Summary: Geralt decides to save a siren. Jaskier is happy.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 10
Kudos: 267





	My Mate

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story posted on here. I hope you guys like it! 
> 
> Update:I will post the link of my drawing of siren!jaskier here 
> 
> https://eskel-lover1998.tumblr.com/post/621045695398526976/my-siren-jaskier-drawing

Light poured into the makeshift room, glittering off scales of purples, blues and greens, off grey wings speckled with black spots. Skin a rich caramel only muted by the murky water in the tank, the glass bouncing yellowed light through and making the skin seem almost ghastly. A rich coarse patch of hair working down from the chest to stop just below the stomach. The tank holding Jaskier was barely big enough for him, but it was the only thing that was provided for him when he was captured. The room itself was bare of anything, just empty space and the packed dirt ground. Stupid humans and their need for entertainment. Oh how he hates it and wants to be free of the cruel humans that “tamed” him. If only he could get away, but they made sure he couldn’t having destroyed his wings leaving only tattered webbing behind. 

He ducked his head back down into the tank as voices approached, two burly men walking into the room to drag his tank-with him in it-out to the awaiting crowd. He could hear the crowd cheering, a full house it seems, as his tank is dragged out and into the ring. The crowds cheers grew louder almost hurting his ears at the sheer volume they screamed, chanted and stomped about. He glanced around at the audience seeing many plain looking men and women, some covered in dirt looking for all of having just come from rolling around in the dirt. He stopped on a single figure sitting in the near back-brooding in the corner by the looks of it and ready to leave-his gaze catching silver hair and golden cat-like eyes staring at him. 

A gasping hiss left him when a searing sting spread across his back. “Up beast let the people see you,” came the snarking command of the ringleader holding a whip lined with silver to use on monsters like him. He gripped the edge of the tank lifting himself up shakily, tears welling in his eyes at the burn from the whip. Humans, nothing but vile creatures, did they think they were anything but? He spread out his tattered wings wincing from another crack of the silver lined whip. 

“See here ladies and gentleman this is a siren, beauties both male and female,” the ringleader’s voice rings out to the crowd-did this man decide to gargle rocks-telling them all about his kind with very inaccurate descriptions. He can feel the blood dripping down his back from the whip, the gashes slowly healing. He shakes with the effort to keep himself up, wishing he had eaten, but the eager humans decided he didn’t need food-not much anyway. He looks back at those golden cat-like eyes seeing them narrowed at him then moving towards the ringleader and back, as if he was trying to piece together a puzzle-which probably he was. “Now who wants to hear this siren sing?”

Gods why did these humans have to so be cruel? Some decided to start throwing things at him the second he let his voice ring out-without so much as getting to warm up his voice-having not been allowed to even utter a word and harshly punished if he did. His shaking grew worse as he had a harder time holding himself up. He finally finished his singing after a few minutes, to him feeling like hours and felt relief at finally getting to lower himself back into the tank. He curls around himself in the small tank folding his damaged wings tightly against his sides taking one last look at the silver haired man with cat-like eyes.

Geralt didn’t like that he had been requested to come to this-ridiculously stupid in his opinion-creature show. Surely the people wouldn’t be stupid enough to have actual monsters to show off right? No, he knows they’d be stupid enough to so he came here, to keep mostly the crowd safe-the handlers could fend for themselves. So here he sat waiting for this show to start and listening to the crowds excitement. They wouldn’t be excited to see someone getting ripped open by the claws and fangs of a werewolf, or burned by acid from an endrega.

The volume of the crowd grew when they started bringing out the monsters nearly made him wince, why were they this excited to see monsters that can kill a simple man easily? He kept his eyes focused on the handlers and what they brought out, a few poorly painted donkeys to look like kelpies and even a woman dressed up to look like a wraith. He was just about to leave from this farce of a show-did they really think they could fool a witcher with fake monsters-but stopped seeing a tank being dragged out. The tank looked to small to hold any significant monster in it but he kept his eyes glued to it. His hand practically twitched to grab at his silver sword once he saw what was in the tank.

“A siren? How the hell did they get an actual siren?,” he looks over the features seeing the shorter hair-shorter than a siren usually has-curling around the edges, the purple and blue scales lining along shoulders, cheeks and wings folded tightly to the body. His breath catches in his throat when he sees the bright blue eyes lock onto his. There was something in those eyes-something geralt doesn’t see in the eyes of a siren-a broken loss of light in those eyes. What could they have done to this siren to make its eyes hold that look? He got his answer soon enough when a flash of silver flicks out and the crack of the whip is ringing loudly in his ears.

He could hear the gasping hiss as if it were being yelled, the smell of blood started filling his nose. He watched as the siren lifted itself-rather shakily if his eyes weren’t deceiving him-partially out of the tank. Another crack of the whip has him clenching his fists snd narrowing his eyes at the sight of its wings. Nothing but tatters of the webbing left, and it’s frame alone was too thin, they were starving it and maiming it, evidence made by the angry red scar marring it’s right bicep. A hungry and injured siren was never a good thing to be near. 

He could hear his teeth grinding as he clenched his jaw, some humans were worse monsters then monsters themselves. The siren’s voice didn’t even sound right, nothing like the drawing melody that they are known for. Food and even rocks were being thrown at it as it continued to sing in a broken voice-they must have kept it from singing while locked up-faltering a little barely noticeable to any normal human ears. He could feel anger boiling in his stomach seeing the shaking getting worse the longer the siren had to hold itself up. He had half a mind to just kill the handlers and the crowd, but that wouldn’t do well for his already abysmal reputation. 

He felt a little relief as the siren was able to finally get back in the tank instead of possibly falling out and getting whipped-for something that would be out of its control. Blue eyes looking to him as the tank was pulled away into the back-presumably to be locked up and starved still. Geralt all but ran back to the inn where he paid for a room to hold him for the night. He had swords to sharpen. Armor to be adjusted and a plan to be made. He was going to get that siren out of there.

~~

Jaskier could feel his stomach coil into itself as he wasn’t fed more than a small morsel of food. Humans were and truly are cruel monsters. He could hear them laughing and drunk, his night just got more fun. He wants to escape, desperately he does, but he’s too broken to even survive on his own. He’d be nothing more than bait to other monsters looking for an easy meal. 

He curled tightly around himself the cramps of being in a too-small space aching through his body. He could smell the food the handlers were eating, probably done on purpose to make him more miserable. His stomach made itself known loudly rumbling making him curl tighter around himself. Why did he have to suffer just because he isn’t human? What had he ever done to these beasts in human forms? 

Jaskier could practically feel the flinch rattle his teeth as he heard the rowdy handlers-very clearly drunk from their stumbling-make their way towards his tank. “Heh a scared little fish ain’t he boys,” the biggest of the bunch, a burly man balding on the top of his head, beard a mess of wiry and greasy hair, leers at him the others laughing. “Broken and scared. A pathetic excuse for a siren,” the shorter one snarks, his hair setting past his shoulders, a scar marring his face along the bottom of his chin up to the top of his lip along the left side. Their laughing bounced around the room, the strong scent of alcohol nearly having him gag. He gasped as he was yanked roughly out of the water by his hair, half hanging out of the tank gripping his hands onto the wrist that was holding him.

The flinch that rolls through Jaskier is violent as he sees the knife glinting into his view. “All this smooth skin. A shame I feel like marring it more,” the vile smirk sent his was makes his insides churn in fear, fear of the monsters that claim to be human. He bit back a yelp as the blade burned into his skin a shallow cut across his cheek blood trickling from it. “Come on little fish scream for us,” the drunken laughter grew louder as another shallow cut was sliced across his cheek just under the first one. He closed his eyes shaking in the hold not wanting to see where they’ll cut him next.

Geralt gathered up his swords after adjusting his armor, placing them snugly onto his back. Heading out of the inn and towards the large-mostly magic crafted-tent that holds the siren, “get in, get the siren and leave. Hopefully with as few deaths as possible.” After a few paces out of the town the tent comes into view, the dark of the night and trees giving it an ominous foreboding look. He supposed it’s fitting for a group bent on harming and starving a siren for entertainment. Even he wasn’t as cruel as most humans seem to be-and they call him a monster?

There wasn’t a single sound of the night, and that didn’t sit right with geralt. The reasoning why hit him with the acrid stench of fear and blood, mixing with the scent of alcohol and drunken glee. He curses taking out his steel sword and moves swiftly inside the tent searching out where they keep the siren. When he reaches where the siren is he freezes seeing the scene playing out before him. Three drunken men-the handlers of the siren in the show-laughing and leering at the siren. The siren he could see was shaking violently with blood dripping from its cheek, the two cuts along its face being the culprit. Gripping his steel sword tightly geralt all but charges at the three men, his anger boiling like the flames of a smith’s forge.

Jaskier gasps at the sudden release of his hair, flailing his arms out catching himself on the bottom edge of the tank. He could hear the handlers scrambling around drunkenly, shouting at whoever was fighting them. The scent of blood fills the air-human blood-and the thud of a body. Opening his eyes he sees one of the handlers dead cut open from the left shoulder, traveling through chest and stomach coming to a stop at the right hip. Looking at the others he nearly lets out a gasp at the sight.

Fighting off the two handlers easily was the man from earlier that day, the silver-white haired man with cat-like eyes. Jaskier watched as the man moved with grace and power, almost as if he was dancing blocking attacks and striking blows to the handlers. The blade glinting in what little light was present, arching in the air before taking the head of the balding man who had held his hair. He couldn’t move, not even to pull himself back in the tank, at the reverent scene playing out before him. Watching as the last handler was cut down and pierced clean through the heart. 

Geralt sheathed his sword looking at the three dead handlers. They must have really weakened the siren if men like them were assigned to keep watch over it. Speaking of the siren, he glances over and nearly stumbles back at the look it has in its eyes staring at him. The once dull blues now holding a bright glow, shining with a form of hope, but also filled with wariness and still fear. Lifting his hands to keep them in the sight of the siren he approaches slowly, as if he would a spooked horse. “I won’t hurt you,” he burrs low and gentle to avoid scaring the siren further.

Jaskier freezes as he sees the man move closer to him, his heart hammering in his chest and his body starting to shake-from both the bleeding and his fear. He relaxes a little as the mans voice soothed out in a low gentle timber. Geralt relaxed a bit and moved closer seeing and smelling the fear lessen on the siren. Good he didn’t need nor want to fight the siren, it’s been through enough as is with these men. Once within range he gently lifts the siren up and out of the tank, holding back a grimace at the sight of the thin frame and clammy skin from malnutrition. 

Jaskier nearly shivers at the warmth of the gentle touch from the man. Looking up into his eyes noticing the beautiful golden color, with hints of green and blue near his slit pupils. Roving his eyes over the mans features he takes in the look of the strong squared jaw-a handsome jaw at that-littered with stubble. The hard set of his eyes yet holding a gentle calming look when they glance at him. Jaskier could feel the strength rolling in the arms holding him, coiled and ready to act yet holding him with such a gentleness. He nearly lets out a sob at the kindness drawing the mans attention to himself.

Geralt could smell the fear ebbing away every passing second as he leaves the large tent. Glancing down seeing the siren looking at him-why did it make his normally slow heart flutter? Taking his time he looks over the sirens features, soft chocolate-brown locks framing his face nicely. Scales littering along his cheeks, shoulders and sides-the two cuts having scabbed over and healing. He nearly let out a growl at seeing the scarred gash on it’s arm up close, an angry red from most likely a silver weapon. The tail was a myriad of purples and blues with hints of green speckled about, the soft underbelly a mute yellow. The webbing-what was left of the poor things wings-were a grayish silver splotched with black spots all over. His wings would have looked like a wonder were they not destroyed as they were.

He walked heading towards roach where he had all his stuff packed and ready. He nearly stopped smelling the salty tang of tears gathering in the sirens eyes. He let his voice out in the gentle burr, “they are gone they won’t hurt you anymore,” the soothing words calming away the last bits of tension in the siren. Monsters he can give a pass to for they only act in their nature. Humans he sees as the real monsters, this siren was proof enough that man was a monster in sheep’s clothing.

Jaskier laid his head against the mans shoulder, feeling warmth and safety radiating off him. Taking in the mans scent smelling leather and blood, musk and sweat, all mixing to be a calming scent to him. Geralt gently set the siren down on the saddle, calming roach down to not buck or nip at the siren. Happy that she calmed and hadn’t bitten at the siren he puts his foot in the stirrup and hauls himself up, settling behind the siren and holding it to his chest. Nudging roach on they travel away from the inn, away from the town-definitely away from that looming tent far behind them.

“Do you have a name,” he kept his voice gentle and calm watching as the siren blinked at him, a little bit of the fear returning to its scent, “I won’t hurt you for speaking. Your safe now.” That seemed to work in quelling some of the small rising fear, the siren working its mouth to speak-in who knows how long since it last used its voice-“j-jas...Jaskier....m-my name is Jaskier.” The siren gave him an expectant look in return to answering his question.

“Geralt.”

~~

A full year had passed of that eventful night, but it was no less difficult nursing the siren back to health; as healthy as could be with damaged wings. Heaving a heavy sigh Geralt looks out at the large lake, where the siren swims about, wiping sweat off his brow. He had brought him here after finding out about this place from Lambert of all people, with every passing day Jaskier got stronger and sang and spoke more often-though he still had bouts where he didn’t utter a word. Focusing back on his task Geralt hammers the post into the ground nearly finished the fence surrounding the house he built. Having spent time with the siren he felt more relaxed then he ever has and grew fonder of him. 

Jaskier watches geralt as he worked on the fence, the man had taken care of him even through the winter. His scales looked brighter than they ever have, his skin a richer caramel and not sticking to his frame. He hauled himself up onto the bank of the lake laying down on his back, idly brushing his fingers along the soft dark hair on his chest humming softly. A lot has happened in the past year, being saved and brought here, getting taken care of. Everytime geralt looked at him he felt his heart flutter and a warmth spread throughout him, he was worried about it at first-thinking the other would find it strange and leave him if he told him. 

Geralt had proven to be equally as worried when he stated-albeit begrudgingly-he felt the same way towards him. Jaskier looked up to the sky watching the clouds drift idly in the breeze, in the span of the year they got to know each other much better. He learned how geralt, though taciturn, can express his feelings. Geralt had learned of his love for singing-as much as he’d let himself still fighting off the years worth of being punished for uttering a whisper. This place was a safe haven they call home and even if Geralt left to go hunt down monsters-he found out from the man himself he’s a witcher-he always returned back to him. 

An hour had passed when Geralt finished the fence, deciding for some rest he heads over towards the bank of the lake. Seeing the siren laid out on the soft green grass, eyes closed and hand rubbing along his chest carding his fingers through the hair, sent a tingling feeling throughout the Witcher. He carefully sets himself down next to Jaskier leaning back on his hands looking down at him. He remembers the day he learned the siren felt the same way he did towards him. He had found out what that feeling was from Vesimir-he’s still not used to the fact he feels love. 

Jaskier could feel Geralt’s gaze on him, but he didn’t move or open his eyes, letting the man churn with his thoughts. He had his own thoughts to think upon anyway. Like how he wanted, wanted the man sitting near him, wanting those cat-like eyes to stare at him, wanting those strong hands to touch him. Gods how he wanted the Witcher to just take him, how much he wanted him to claim, to bite, to mark him as mate. He wanted to feel as geralt would mark him, to claim him and become his mate. 

Geralt scented the air smelling the scent of oceans, and the tangy smell of arousal in the air. Looking to Jaskier he could smell it was coming from him, but what was he thinking about that had him pouring out the scent? He nearly let out a gasp, seeing the normally bright blue eyes, now only a ring with his pupils blown wide. His body acted without thinking moving in close to the siren, hearing the soft gasp, his lips barely grazing across the soft plush lips. He paused remembering how he’d seen Jaskier scared of being forced to do anything, it was those thoughts that had him pulling back.

Jaskier let out a gasp when geralt moves to hover over him, feeling the firm yet soft lips brush against his own. Gods this was happening. He waited for the other to make his move, staring into the golden eyes the pupil nearly matching his own. He felt his heart drop when geralt started to move away, reaching out and grasping the thickly muscled bicep stopping him, “please, Geralt. Please stay.”

Geralt stilled looking into Jaskier’s eyes seeing his worry, smelling it seeping through the arousal. He lowered himself back over him his lips a hairs breath away from the siren’s, cupping his hand softly against Jaskier’s cheek. “May I?,” Jaskier all but nods his head a blush creeping up his face, “yes,” geralt leans in the rest of the way gently pressing his lips against the others. The kiss was slow and languid expressing the love that they couldn’t vocalize to each other. 

Jaskier lifted his arms to wrap around Geralt’s broad shoulders, holding him close. The kiss was absolutely sweet and spread warmth throughout his veins. A small gasp left his lips as he felt the warm wet tongue dart out to lick along his mouth, asking for entrance. He let his mouth fall open mewling as Geralt’s tongue licked into his mouth, their kiss deepening and moving them closer with both Geralt’s hands cupping his face. He mewled as his tongue was sucked on and licked over by Geralt, gods the man could kiss. 

When the need for air made itself known, Geralt pulls back from the kiss resting his forehead on Jaskier’s. “Jaskier,” the name left him in a soft breathy whisper, his hair draping over his shoulder curtaining around them-Jaskier must’ve removed the hair band at some point during the kiss. “Geralt please-I want you, I want to be your mate, I want you to mark me as yours and only yours,” he could feel heat pool in his stomach from the soft spoken words, realizing how very much he wanted to do just as those words said. “I will mark you up so much that no one will be able to deny that your mine,” he burrs right into Jaskier’s ear moving to kiss down along his jaw to his throat. Grazing his teeth just over the patch of skin behind his ear, sinking his teeth down and sucking a dark bruise onto him, purring as his siren let out a stuttered moan. 

Jaskier writhed leaning his head back to bare more of his throat, Geralt biting and sucking marks all along his neck claiming him. He dragged his hands down to the hem of the black tunic, untucking them and carding the shirt up dragging his hands along the solid planes of muscle. He could feel the coarse hair along Geralt’s chest, dragging his clawed nails down leaving deep red lines trailing after. “Geralt please,” the soft growl rumbled deep from Geralt’s chest as he felt the large strong hands trailing down his. He let out a keen when he felt those calloused fingers drag back down carding through the dark curls along his chest.

Geralt kisses down to Jaskier’s chest placing his mouth right against the meat of his pec, biting a bruise into the skin. He moves himself up and away from the siren ignoring the whine, shucking off the shirt smirking as he catches him staring. Lowering his hands he deliberately pops open each button slowly putting on a show for his siren. Each button he popped open caused the scent of arousal to grow from Jaskier-whose pupils had long since been blown wide leaving only a thin blue ring visible. Popping off the last button he grips the hem of his pants and lowers them kicking off his boots throwing them into a pile with his shirt.

He lowers himself moving to straddle the strong tail, a bead of pre dripping down his cock at the sight Jaskier made. His hair disheveled and haloing around his head, a flush running from the tips of his ears down to his chest. Geralt trailed a hand down pressing his fingers along the slit drawing a gasp and bucking of hips from his siren. “Shhh it’s alright I’ll take good care of you,” he burrs gently rubbing his fingers along the slit drawing out Jaskier’s cock-an impressive sight as it glistened with need laying up against his stomach, ridges lining along the underside of it. He wrapped his hand around it and stroked his thumb along the ridges, almost getting bucked completely off when Jaskier writhed with pleasure. 

Jaskier panted heavily his heart hammering in his chest. He practically thrummed with pleasure as geralt stroked him, “gods geralt! It feels so good!” He received a deep purr in response as geralt continued to pump his hand to a slow steady rhythm. Did this man not know how good he was at this? He has him practically feeling boneless and at his mercy. He let out a choked moan as he felt a thick digit press deep into the second slit below the first, gripping the grass below him tossing his head to the side giving a strong buck of his hips as the pleasure hit straight through him, “geralt!” 

Geralt all but squeezes his thickly muscles legs to prevent himself from being thrown off, thrusting his finger all the way to the knuckle feeling the muscles clenching and pulling his finger in. Drawing his finger out slowly he angles his hand and adds a second finger thrusting them deep, his pupils blowing so wide only a ring of gold can be seen at the velvety keen leaving Jaskier. He looked divine laying sprawled out in the grass underneath him, a panting and writhing mess. “You look beautiful like this. All sprawled out for me to claim,” he watched the shudder pass through his siren seeing his pupils-if possible-go wider. Geralt all but groans thrusting in a third finger, his cock weeping and his own fluids mixing with Jaskier’s on his stomach.

“Geralt-mate please!,” by all the gods of the sea he positively writhed as pleasure poured through his veins like a thick syrup. He nearly wept when the fingers were replaced with the thick head of Geralt’s cock, his own coating his stomach with a sticky mess. His back bows as he can feel the burning stretch as geralt thrusts into him slowly, his jaw falling slack and a litany of jumbled words leave him. His witcher’s body had to have been sculpted by gods, no man should have a cock as big as his and corded muscles that take up his frame. 

A deep resounding groan left Geralt when he bottomed out, could feel the tight clenching muscles squeeze against him-gods he isn’t going to last long. Rolling his hips in a shallow thrust he moves a hand up dragging his fingers along the lithe, but very strong arm till he slid his palm into his sirens and thread their fingers together. He stroked his hand along Jaskier leaking cock laving most of the attention to the ridges, adding pressure against them-drawing loud keens from Jaskier. He let out a surprised grunt when he felt a rush of air then felt his back thud against the ground. Seeing Jaskier hovering above him, his weight pressing down sending his own cock deeper into the tight heat.

Geralt adjusts his legs allowing Jaskier to better fit against him, rolling his hips up against the siren doing no more then a shallow thrust in and out. Both letting out a groan at the closeness. Jaskier cupped his hands along Geralt’s face rolling his hips down into him panting, his face a scant few inches from him the warmth of his breath mixing with his own pants. Geralt places his hands along the slender waist feeling the muscles underneath tensing with each roll of those hips. What a sight Jaskier made for him-why didn’t he act sooner in claiming him?

Jaskier could feel how full geralt made him and each roll of his hips sent his witcher deeper into him-he could just continue like this if he wasn’t already close to orgasm. He places a strong open mouthed kiss to Geralt’s own lips, searing as much love into it as he could, “my mate! Mine and only mine to claim and mark!” A deep snarl left geralt as he surged forward claiming his mouth in an equally searing kiss, teeth clacking and tongues rolling in a primal need, “my mate!,” the words were snarled accompanied by teeth clamping into the juncture of his neck breaking the skin to leave a mark, a hand wrapping around his weeping cock stroking him, geralt slamming home deep into him filling him up-so much that it leaked out of him and onto Geralt himself. Jaskier could feel his vision white out as he arched forward clamping his fangs through the soft flesh of Geralt’s neck placing his own claiming mark, his own release taking him over spilling out onto Geralt’s chest and hand. Both lay there their chests heaving with each intake of air. 

Geralt noses along behind Jaskier’s ear taking in his scent of oceans and sex heavily mixing, letting out a deep rumbling purr feeling satiated and content. Jaskier lapped at the blood trickling out of the mark on Geralt’s neck letting out his own little trills of content. Geralt paused in his ministrations scenting the air, groaning he thumped his head on the ground recognizing the scent. Of course his brothers and mentor would show up while he was balls deep in his siren. “Geralt geralt geralt, couldn’t have found a better time to fuck him?,” Lambert, snarking his words out as usual, “looks more like he was the one getting fucked,” Eskel, ever the more joking ass when the time allows it. Both let out a yelp in unison as Vesemir cuffed them on the backs of their heads, “knock it off you two and geralt, you two go get cleaned up,” the three of them walked into the house leaving them alone. 

Gently hefted Jaskier up and pulled himself out holding the siren like he weighed no more than a feather-even though he really weighed more with the pure muscle in his tail. He moved them both into the water setting him down and positioning himself infront of him letting the siren lean against his chest. Jaskier continued to let out his trills nuzzling against his chest. He smoothed his fingers down his back softly, “my mate,” he let out his own deep purr making his words sound more possessive. Jaskier let out a louder trill his fingers making lazy patterns across his chest, his eyes lidded with tiredness and love.

“My mate.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave helpful tips and be respectful in the comments


End file.
